There are times I feel like I could write a sonnet about the way her eyelashes look against her cheek. Or about the way her mouth rests when she sleeps. Or the crook of her elbow. The bottom of her feet. Eleanor is nineteen months old and perfect. Did I feel this way about Matt? I think I must have but guiltily worry that I didn’t. I could write
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Since we're all chiming in with our babies' ages, mine is 8, and it's weird how he seems so little and so big all at once, all the time, these days. I love his voice, and his bangs in his face, and the way he concentrates when he works on math or board games. I love, love, love, that he still wants to fall asleep in my arms, as I curl up next to him in his bed. I love when the world stands still with these babies.
I absolutely adore everything about this piece, and think it would do well if you submitted it to a parenting magazine or something!! <3
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